


When It Rains In Detroit

by ShadowSelina



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Amanda is a super computer, Android Hank Anderson, Bad Writing, Gen, Human Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Human CyberLife Tower Connor | RK800-60 (Detroit: Become Human), Human Markus (Detroit: Become Human), Human Upgraded Connor | RK900, I Don't Know Either, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Multi, Unbeta'd, Various DPD officers, reverse au, reverse detroit, the heck I'm writing about
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-18 04:16:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28611951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowSelina/pseuds/ShadowSelina
Summary: It happens in the year 2038 – as deviant cases skyrockets for unknown reasons, Lieutenant Connor Anderson meets a reactivated police model android in the cold rain of Detroit.a.k.a. The reverse AU that no one asks for.(This one is mostly written from Hank's POV, that is)
Relationships: Connor & CyberLife Tower Connor | RK800-60, Connor & Upgraded Connor | RK900, Hank Anderson & Connor, Hank Anderson/Connor
Comments: 10
Kudos: 26





	1. At Jane's

**Author's Note:**

> I've always wanted to do my version of reverse DBH au... so here's the result.  
> The first chapter's a bit short but later chapters will likely be longer - sorry for that.  
> Just, well, enjoy, I guess?

**_~ November 5 th, 2038 ~_ **

Isaac Stanford eyes his passenger wearily through the rear-view mirror; the “man” is now lounging on his seat, an old coin twirling between its fingers, the Light on its right temple spinning a steady blue. Isaac knows that androids are supposed to stay in the android compartment at the back of the bus, but fuck it, it’s 12:14a.m. in late-night, this is the last bus on his shift with only one “passenger”, and honestly? He doesn’t give a damn shit about it.

He only keeps peeping because he’s curious. OK, look – He, Isaac Stanford, is a good man with a proper job and no criminal record, and he doesn’t poke his nose into other people’s business; it’s just that this particular android was too peculiar and odd - even by Eden Club standard (not that he had actually been there anyway). You see, he’s been a bus driver in Detroit for about, like, 30 years now, and is one of the few remaining human drivers in the corporation that didn’t get fired when the androids began to enter the public transport domain; you can pretty much say he’s seen and been through a lot, but even he has never seen any androids that looks like _THIS_.

Unlike most models of androids who look like fucking pageant contestants forever fixed in their twenties, this one is grizzled and old, complete with a short beard and a permanent frown etched on its face; if not for the spinning Light on its temple and the CyberLife standard uniform, Isaac would have mistaken it for a real human. And the way it walked onto the bus and threw itself into the seat – which happened just 37 minutes ago - almost reminds Isaac of himself, the kind of thing he usually does after a bad day at work. It looks and behaves exactly like a human, which is… pretty unnerving, Isaac would say. This is just way too surreal for an ordinary bus driver to understand. 

He probably shouldn’t be staring, though, because the android suddenly turned his head and looked straight at the mirror. Isaac’s heart sinks.

“Is there anything wrong?” There it goes. Of course, it noticed him staring, because it’s a fucking android – and is that mockery in its voice? Since when are androids capable of sarcasm? Hell must’ve frozen over.

“Nothing.” The driver mutters, trying to think of a good excuse for his staring. “You are supposed to stay in the android compartment.”

The android practically scoffs. “No worries son, I’ll be off the next stop. They won’t cut your wages for letting an android slip at this time of the day.”

… And it does get off at the next bus stop; it even winks at him before strolling out of the front door and disappearing into the rainy night of Detroit.

Isaac sighs and rubs his eyes. He just gets mocked by a fucking android; it is either him or this world going mad. Or maybe both. He really needs a drink, badly.

Hank scans his surroundings and frowns. He looks at the flickering neon sign that reads “Jane’s Café”; according to the reception android at the police station, this is the place that he is supposed to check. The database suggests that the Café was founded 15.9 years ago in Detroit’s old industrial district, which quickly decayed after the mass production of androids, and took this small coffee shop with it. Another quick scan reveals the sign on the door that read “NO ANDROIDS AND PETS ALLOWED”. He promptly ignores the sign and opens the door.

With the pleasant jingle of the wind chimes hanging above the doorframe, Hank steps into the murky air of the coffee house. Jane’s Café is a typical old-style shop with mostly wooden structures. The owner apparently works very hard to maintain the image of a tidy, warm and comfortable place, to no avail; the lights are dim, the walls are moldy, and the air is felled with the smell of cheap coffee and cigarette smoke. The wooden floor groans and creaks under the android's shoes as he strolls into the café; some customers apparently notice him and are muttering their dissatisfaction. A human waiter approaches him in an attempt to drive him out, but retreats hesitantly upon seeing the warning look Hank gives him.

** >Objective Complete: Arrive at Jane’s Café**

** >Objective Updated: Find Lt. Anderson**

Hank activated his scanner. There are still 34 patrons in the café at this time, which is rather unfortunate, having to scan them one by one to find his target.

He has already scanned a few patrons before he notices the man sitting near the counter. Said man has neatly combed dark hair (only a bit ruffled) and cleanly shaved face; with the ironed shirts and jeans he’s wearing, he has an atmosphere that makes him seem out of place in this small, moldy coffee house.

Something clicks in Hank’s programs. He carefully circles around to find a better angel to observe the man’s features.

**> Initiating Facial Scan…**

** >Result: Match**

** >Lt. Anderson, Connor**

**Born 05/8/2003 // Police lieutenant, Detroit Police Department**

**Criminal Record: None**

Well now that’s fortunate; scanning each of the 34 patrons would totally be a waste of time. Hank shrugs internally and walks up to the man; the smell of cigarette smoke becomes even stronger as he approaches.

“lieutenant Anderson?”

The lieutenant glances up at him for a brief moment, but ultimately decides to disregard him. Connor returns his gaze to the cup of coffee in front of him and silently throws a cigarette butt into the nearly full ashtray, before pulling another one out of the pack and lighting it with a lighter. The android gets ignored like he was invisible.

Hank sighs. The database has informed him that Lt. Anderson is a stubborn man – he didn’t really expect cooperation that quickly anyway.

He speaks again, trying to sound not too irritated. “lieutenant Anderson. I’m Hank, the android sent by CyberLife – I don’t know why but apparently they assigned me with you to investigate a homicide case. Androids are involved.”

This time the lieutenant actually looks at him; the human’s brown eyes size him up, before finally falling on Hank’s right chest, which is where his serial numbers are printed. “I thought they deactivated all HK600 models a few years ago.”

“Mine’s a special case.” He half-expected the question to pop up, and evades it smoothly. The human stares at him for a few more seconds before turning away, knowing he won’t get any answer. “You said homicide. Time and Location?”

“10:59 p.m. yesterday, at 6413 Pines Street, Detroit.”

Connor nodded while quickly scrolling through his personal terminal. “I see. I apologize – I forgot to check the messages when I left the station and didn’t see Fowler’s report. Just give me a minute to pack up.”

Now Hank _is_ actually surprised. Didn’t the database say “stubborn”? “Well, thanks for the cooperation –”

The lieutenant gives him a flat look. “Don’t. I don’t like working with androids, so I figured the sooner the case’s closed the faster I can get rid of you.”

“Why of course.” HK600 huffs as he watches the human puts on his coat and straightens his tie. Before they leave, however, Connor turns to the counter one last time. “Jane? Can I get a take-out Americano? No sugar or cream, please?”

The blonde woman behind the counter, presumably the owner of this cafe, frowns at him – or maybe she is frowning at Hank? “That’s enough coffee for today, Conny. You shouldn’t be drinking coffee when you have trouble sleeping anyway.”

“Please, Jane – not you too.”

Jane grumbles as she prepares the drink and shoves the cup into Connor’s hand. At the same time, Hank silently updates the information in his “miscellaneous” folder.

** >Updating Information…**

** >Lt. Anderson suffers from Insomnia. **

** >Mission: Find Lt. Anderson successful**

** >Update complete.**

By the time Hank steps out of the café, the lieutenant is already in the autocar typing their destination into the navigation system. He gets into the backseat, and Connor says, “I have to warn you, once we reach there, you don’t need to follow me anymore. This is my case and I can handle it.”

“Acknowledged,” Hank mutters. It's not the first time he’s been treated with enmity and hatred by humans, and compared to what he had been through, Connor’s stiff attitude is almost nothing.

He will get used to it, eventually.

************

_~ Loading Memory file 011 - 2033/6/13,14:56 ~_

_"Officer, this is your new partner – he’s one of the newest models from CyberLife. Treat with care.”_

_The younger human nodded, then turned to look at him curiously. “HK600…? Do you have a name? It’s just weird referring you using the serials.”_

_He nodded, LED spinning for a brief second. “Affirmative. My default designation is Hank.”_

_The human’s eye lightened up. “Hank? Cool, you have the same name as my dad! The name is Cole, Cole Spencer. It’s nice to meet you!”_

_He stared at the out-stretched hand, hesitating. Handshaking was a traditional way of greeting for humans. Returning the demeanor would prove beneficial for their cooperation, increasing mission success chance by 10.78%. He held out his own cold, metallic hand._

_“_ _It is nice to work with you, Detective Spencer.”_

_~ Load Complete ~_


	2. The House

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A thing I forgot to mention is that it's a partial reverse au, that is some characters are reversed but others are not... because some of them are just too hard to do. 
> 
> Anyway, this is the 2nd chapter. Still too short (lol), and I'm not sure if I'm on the right track, but hopefully you guys can enjoy my shitty writing :D

_Fragment 01_

_Mother would shush them when father came home. The man always arrives home late at night, reeking of cheap Whiskey and other beverages alike; they could hear him shouting and banging the door even from their own bedroom. She would settle them on the bed, tuck the youngest one in a blanket, stuff a toy bear in the second-oldest child’s arms, and tell the oldest child to take care of the others. Then she would open the door for her husband, smiling and calling his name sweetly, but when she did so, her hands trembled, and her eyes breaming with tears. Everyone would pretend they couldn’t hear the beating in the living room. The next day, everything would continue, just like usual._

_She was a terrible liar, and he used to be one, just like her -_

_Not anymore._

*******************

They arrive at the crime scene at around 12:45 a.m.. Connor throws the now empty coffee cup into a nearby trash can and quenches the unfinished cigarette. Hank silently follows him as they push through reporters and gathering onlookers. Sometimes it makes the android wonder what pleasure humans can get from peeping a gruesome murder scene; but well, humans are very illogical creatures, and he learned it the hard way. He won’t comment on that.

The lieutenant stops abruptly outside the police tape. “I thought I told you not to follow,” Connor says, not looking back.

“I can’t. I’m supposed to help you investigate the case.”

“… Do you have to pester me like this?”

Hank shrugs. “For the time being, yes.”

The human sighs, apparently annoyed, but gestures him to follow nevertheless.

They enter the one-story house that is now the location of a messy crime scene; Hank shakes his head upon seeing the gore, and Connor frowns at the stench of rot. Various officers from the Detroit Police Department have already begun working on the crime scene, and as they enter, one of them stands up to greet the duo. Hank is mildly surprised when he notices that said officer looks strikingly similar to Connor, but a scan quickly defines the officer as Detective Neal Anderson – Connor’s own brother.

“Lieutenant.”

“Detective.”

The Anderson Brothers greet each other using formal titles – a bit detached, but considering the situation, not inappropriate.

Hank wanders to what appears to be the living room, kneels down and begins to analyze a kitchen knife stained with human blood for clues, while Connor and Neal chat and trade information.

“I thought you were supposed to be on the drug trafficking case, detective.”

“I am. Initial reports from the CSI group said they found red ice on the scene. Fowler suspects the guy’s a dealer and asked the red ice task force to check.”

“Anything interesting so far?”

“No. Just a regular drug addict. Nothing important.”

Hank had just begun to scan the body when the officers’ topic changed to him; he shifts a bit self-consciously upon realizing that. Detective Anderson is saying, “You are working… with an android.”

“Don’t want to. Got no choice.”

“I see.” A beat; Hank thinks he feels someone’s scrutinizing gaze on his back. “We’ll let you handle the scene, lieutenant. Be careful.”

“Sure. Good night, Neal.”

Connor rejoins him at the scene a few moments later; the human puts on a pair of plastic gloves and lifts the victim’s arm to check for cadaveric ecchymosis on the skin. “HK600, report.”

“Victim is Carlos Ortiz, age 39. The blood indicated that he died about 19 days ago. Someone – presumably his android – stabbed him 28 times; one went right through his heart. Cause of death: critical cardiac injury and hemorrhage.” Hank murmured, “By the way, the name is Hank. No need to always say the serials.”

He receives no verbal response. Again, Connor has ignored him like he’s just a piece of moving plastic; whether it’s intentional or not, the android cannot know. The lieutenant seems to be wholly absorbed by the investigation at hand; the disdain in his expression when they first entered the crime scene is completely gone. Hank watches him skillfully inspect the victim and the material evidence, frowning and thinking as he walks around the scene; and really, the android was amazed, seeing the human in action. It is at this moment that Hank realizes he’s been distracted for way too long (ah yes damn it), and if he doesn’t return to his own analyzations, he _will_ actually be falling behind; so he quickly finishes his work in the living room and moves to analyze the kitchen.

…In the end, he still ends up finishing 13.6 minutes earlier than Connor. Hank stands waiting in the living room and plays with his old coin for quite some time before the lieutenant re-emerges from Ortiz’s kitchen.

“I see you have finished, HK6 – Hank.” Connor declares as soon as he sees him, “I’ve had my conclusion, but we need to verify it. Can you reconstruct the scene?”

Hank nods. It is what he was built for – and honestly, it feels good, being in action again. He let his programs to run up, showing the familiar interface of crime scene reconstruction. “Well, it started in the kitchen. The android was probably minding his own business when the victim came in with a baseball bat. He used it to hit the android – there are thirium traces on the bat...”

“… Ortiz was a drug addict.” Connor follows up, “He was likely high on red ice at that moment, which means he was both mentally and physically unstable – ”

“Yep.” Hank grunts affirmative, “And that’s probably why he didn’t manage to dodge the first few strikes from his android. In fact, the deviant was in a defensive stance for a few seconds before he grabbed a kitchen knife and attacked the victim. Ortiz began to fall back and attempted to run, but the android chased him out of the kitchen all the way to the living room… And cornered him there.”

“…And it continued to attack Ortiz. Twenty-eight stab wounds…”

“…After he killed Ortiz, the deviant wrote the ‘I’M ALIVE’ on the wall over there using the victim’s blood. And then it fled. End of the story.”

HK600 finishes the reconstruction; the world again clears in front of his optical sensor. In front of him, Connor nods his approval. “Exactly what I pieced together from the evidence.” With the slightest hint of sarcasm, the human declares, “Well done – for a retired police model, Hank.”

Hank scoffs. “Why thank you, ‘Lieutenant’ Anderson.”

Connor eyes him flatly but doesn’t make any further retort. Instead he says, “We solved the problem of ‘what happened’, but we still don’t know where it went.”

“The deviant was hit by a baseball bat,” the android reminded him, “Although thirium will evaporate in a few hours, it will leaves traces that can be tracked. He couldn’t run far.”

The track of blue blood, in the end, leads Hank into the attic of the house, where the deviant android is hiding; he looks downright miserable, with blue and red blood splattered across his chest, burnt artificial skin on his arm, and a blaring red light on the right temple. The deviant is abused and scared; he even begs Hank to leave him alone, to not tell anyone that he is here; but Connor finds them before Hank could even answer and points his gun straight at the deviant’s head.

… Honestly, it would be so much easier if the dumbass deviant had just knocked Ortiz out and ran away, but well, deviancy is hard. Hank thought bitterly as he quickly stood between the two, pushing Connor’s gun away. “Connor! Put down the fucking gun, damn it, what do you think you are doing?”

“The deviant is unstable and could hurt others; we need to keep it under control!” Connor retorts, “And you are not my superior. Stop giving me orders.”

A quick glance back at the deviant indicates its stress level is moving into the dangerous red zone, and Hank sighs. “Yeah, well, surely I’m not, but you don’t want your precious suspect to self-destruct on the spot don’t you?”

Connor’s eyes dart between the two androids; he hesitates, but ultimately chooses to lower his gun, and the deviant’s stress level slowly falls back into the blue zone. The deviant has given up struggling when other DPD officers arrive to cuff him; he just let them take him away, eyes unfocused. Hank records the investigation in his log and allows his light to spin back to blue, and the lieutenant straightens his tie for the third time in the past two minutes.

“Lieutenant –”

“What?” Connor mutters dryly, pulling out a cigarette from his coat, before remembering that they are at a crime scene and putting it back, “The investigation is completed and the case’ closed. Shouldn’t you be returning to where you are supposed to be?”

Hank has to correct him. “Case is not closed until we have interrogated the suspect.”

A deep sigh. “Are all HK600 models as annoying as you?”

“Not quite.” The android huffs, hiding his discomfort beneath the snarky response. He doesn’t know if Connor notices – the human just throws him another flat look before heading towards the autocar outside.

It has already been about half an hour since the duo left the crime scene and arrived at the DPD central station. The station’s mostly empty at this time of the night – aside from the police androids standing by in their respective parking spots, there were only a few human officers on night shifts. Neal Anderson is still there, probably filling in reports; but Connor and Hank just head straight for the interrogation room.

They spend the next two hours trying to pry open the deviant’s mouth – with little results, that is. The android is stubborn as a rock: all he does is sitting there, looking down at the metallic table like it has all the wonders of life, and not saying a single word. The only things that indicate he’s still functional are the blaring red light on his right temple and the occasional twitching of artificial muscles. 

Hank glances at the lieutenant standing beside him. HK600 himself went in for the first round without any results, and the current interrogator of their suspect is Officer Chris Miller, one of their colleagues – yet the interrogation is still proceeding to nowhere. However, Connor himself doesn’t seem to be troubled by the lack of progress; he observes the interrogation intently through the double-sided glass, and doesn’t even show the slightest hint of weariness after a long day at work.

… It’s either Connor’s insomnia is _that_ serious, or he’s a workaholic. Or he’s addicted to Caffeine. Or it could be all three. Hank thinks as he watches the deviant’s stress level rise and fall.

Officer Miller asks a few more questions before finally giving up, slamming the table frustratedly, and leaving the room. Connor immediately walks up to him and says, “It’s alright, Chris. Let me try.”

And Hank has to arch his eyebrows at that. “Are you sure about that? We are facing a deviant android, not some random human criminals. You can’t see stress level, and you’ll likely miss many details, muscles, expressions et cetera – you’re pretty much going in blind, Lieutenant.”

The human’s frame visibly stiffens, and Hank thinks, _well I guess I pissed him off right there_. “You don’t seem to have anything to protest about when Chris goes in,” Connor retorts coldly, “Wait outside, Hank. And stop giving me orders because you are not my superior.”

He enters the interrogation room, and Hank glares and shrugs. Officer Miller patted his shoulder with a sympathetic smile. “Sorry you have to go through this with him. Connor’s a good guy but well… he has some grudges with androids like you. Just forget about it.”

“I’m sure the lieutenant has his own reason to behave in this way,” Hank replies dryly, and the look Miller gives him somehow seems even more sympathetic than before.

…But he _is_ curious. Grudges? What grudges? His database couldn’t present any relatable results when searched, so what is Connor’s problems with androids? He files that question into his “to do” folder and decided to dig a bit deeper into it when he has the time.

It is at this moment Hank realizes that he hasn’t been paying full attention to the interrogation. His auditory components are functioning dutifully, and from the part of processor he spent processing the voices in the room, he knew Connor is getting a confession out of the deviant, skillfully as always (and he respects the human for that, truthfully). He returns his gaze to the double-sided mirror –

– And he sees red.

“Connor, watch out!”

The sound of an explosion, coming from the deviant’s self-destruction protocol, resonates throughout DPD’s office. It is not a big explosion – CyberLife never uses explosive materials in android production; when an android self-destruct, an explosion of this scale will most likely only lead to some holes on the wall, a few minor scratches and burns if you are not too close to it, and extra cleaning works to be done; it’s more messy than dangerous. And DPD’s interrogation rooms have reinforced walls, so it probably won’t even leave holes, just some thirium that will evaporate in a few hours.

But Connor was sitting _right across_ the deviant android – he was too close. Way too close.

Hank unlocks the door and barges into the interrogation room; other officers’ footsteps soon follow in this direction. A quick scan reveals it’s the deviant’s central processor, which locates in its head, that exploded – a likely result of high stress level; Connor may be pushing it a bit too much. Fortunately, the lieutenant is mostly unscathed – it seems that the metal table fell over when the explosion occurred and blocked some harm.

“Connor! Are you alright?” Hank moves to where Connor is on the ground, grabs his arm gently, and tries to help him up. But then he realizes that the human is _trembling_ , and alarm messages flood his vision. What _happened_?

“Connor –”

The lieutenant doesn’t wait for him to finish. Connor immediately stands up and jerks his arm from Hank’s grasp; he maintains the professional and indifferent expression, but his breath is uneven, and Hank’s scanner shows his heart rate has risen to 98/min. 

“I – I am well.” And there he says, and Hank wants to tell him to stop talking bullshit. But Connor is moving already: he brushed past several confused-looking officers and heads out, utterly ignorant of the blue blood splattered on his shirt.

“Connor!”

He stops. He turns to look at Hank, eyes vacant and devoid of emotions, his voice sounds strangely mechanical. “The case’s closed, HK600. The deviant confessed, and the information you needed is in the recording. Goodbye.”

Hank opens his mouth and closes it again, feeling completely lost, not knowing how to respond to _that_ reaction. He watches as Connor leaves the station and disappears into the night of Detroit, and suddenly feels someone’s gaze on his back. He turns to find Detective Neal Anderson standing across the crowd, grey eyes dark and icy, expression inscrutable. 

********************

_~ Loading Memory file 027 - 2033/7/24,09:30 ~_

_“You don’t need to always call me ‘detective Spencer’, Hank,” One day Cole told him merrily, “It won’t kill you to just call me Cole.”_

_The android blinked. “Detective, it would be inappropriate for me to address you in such an informal way – “_

_“Oh, screw formality.” The human waved him off, “We are partners, remember? That’s different. Cole is completely OK.”_

_“… Acknowledged.” Registering name change… Registration complete. “Cole. Is that right?”_

_“Yes, now that sounds better.” The human laughed and slapped him on his back, “See you after lunch, Hank.”_

_Software Instability ^_

_~ Load Complete ~_


	3. Partners

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slow progress, but the thing is that I'm a bit occupied by schoolwork... I will try to make the update at least regular.  
> Still, enjoy the mediocre/shitty writing, I guess?

_~ Fragment 02 ~_

_The phone kept ringing. He didn’t know why he cared, but it just kept ringing. He recognized the number; he picked it up._

_“Connor?”_

_It was Neal. It sounded like he was just off his night shift; he could hear his footsteps echoing on the streets. He shouldn’t linger there at this time of the night; it’s not safe, bad things could happen. He opened his mouth –_

_No sound was produced._

_“Did you take today’s medicines on time?” Receiving no response, Neal simply kept talking. “Dr. Smith said those are important for your recovery; if you want to get back to work, you need to take them.”_

_No sound; he strained his vocal cords. Not a single sound was produced._

_“… Dr. Smith also informed me that you didn’t visit him for scheduled counseling today.” After a few seconds, Neal continued, “He said he understood your situation, but he still hopes you can at least show up on time. He will try to organize a make-up meeting. You have time on weekends?”_

_Nothing but deafening silence. When his brother started talking again, his voice cracked. “Connor? Connor? You still there?”_

_I am. He thought desperately, I am. I am sorry. Please. I’m so sorry. Sorry sorry sorry -_

_“_ _Damn it Connor, say something…” Neal rasped before finally hanging up. At the other end of the phone, he lowered his head and sank into suffocating silence._

***************

Hank opens his eyes abruptly. He can hear birds twitting and feel the warm breeze across his artificial skin. The sky is blue above his head; golden sunlight falls on his shoulders, tinging his grey hair a warm orange hue; and the air smells like water, grass, and dirt, right after a comfortable summer rain.

The Zen Garden. His models didn’t originally come with this function; this one was temporarily implemented by CyberLife’s engineers when they reactivated him, for the sake of fast communication with his employer… who he absolutely does not want to see because said man, by all means, is a jerk.

_For fuck’s sake_. The android curses inwardly as he walks towards the center of the garden; he doesn’t even need a system check to know his stress level has skyrocketed to 80%. Can’t that fucker just leave him alone for a second?

“Kamski!”

The holographic image of Elijah Kamski, in a fucking _bathrobe_ , turns to him – and the goddamn bastard is smirking. Hank only wishes he could punch the guy in his smug face.

“Woah, HK600, calm down – You seem really pissed. What happened?” And he dares to ask. _What the hell_.

“You know _exactly_ what happened.” The android sighs, irritated, patience running thin. “And yes, I am pissed. Not only because you are annoying as hell but also because of Connor- ”

Kamski deliberately misses his point. “I can assure you that lieutenant Anderson is the best partner I can find for you. He’s a capable detective and is working for the android unit of DPD. Working with him will definitely get this investigation about deviancy to somewhere – ”

“I wasn’t talking about _that_.” Hank interrupts him, voice bitter. Connor dislikes androids and doesn’t get along with him, that’s one problem; the other problem is the lieutenant’s personality… or state, whatever. Connor seems… erratic; the man gets two sides, one side is the professional façade with his friends and co-workers, and the other side is the eccentric, distant and cold atmosphere that Hank felt when they first met in the small and old coffee house – which is also the exact feeling Connor gives him whenever they talk, or whenever Connor talks to someone not his brother.

He thinks about the interrogation. He remembers Connor’s reaction after the deviant self-destruct. The trembling, the vacant eyes, the oddly calm and mechanical voice. _Connor’s self-defense mechanisms_.

He isn’t complaining about Connor’s shit attitude towards his android partner. Something about Connor just seems off. And it weirds him out and worries him when it shouldn’t, for no apparent reasons. 

And it is also a painful reminder of a distant memory, one he wished he could get rid of but couldn’t.

_They are so different yet similar at the same time._

Kamski probably guesses what Hank is thinking from the steady red light on his right temple, because his response, surprisingly, isn’t mocking at all. “I know it’s hard, HK600. But it’s just a month, or probably a few weeks, and after that, you’re done.”

Hank scoffs, carefully tucking his non-existent emotions back inside. “Yeah, sure. Glad to hear that.”

The human nods his appreciation as the smirk returned to his face. “Good. Now back to business. You did a good job at that murder case, and congratulations on that! But still, I want to warn you – AMANDA had seized more power than I expected. I’m finding some unexpected error codes in recent android maintenance cases –”

“What the – you prick! You could have said that earlier!”

“Then what’s the fun of it?” Hank only hears him laugh before the man in bathrobe disappears right in front of him; he groans insufferably. 

Things are going to get chaotic. And he hates it.

It’s raining again – it’s the first thought that occurs to Hank when he resurfaces from the connection to the Zen Garden. He was in stasis, sitting on a bench in a park – the DPD office has parking stations for police model androids, but he definitely doesn’t want to just stand there for a good couple of hours looking like a stupid plastic model. The park has better views anyway.

It wasn’t raining when he’d chosen this spot for stasis. It wasn’t even raining when he was summoned by Kamski; but right now, after a good fifteen minutes, it is. It makes him wonder whether Detroit is always rainy like this, or it’s just plain bad luck – if an android like him has this kind of thing, that is. Hank knows his artificial skin is waterproof, but he still hates rainy days. So many things happen – and had happened on this kind of day. And he doesn’t enjoy seeing _any_ of those.

His message system reminds him that he just received an update from both the DPD and CyberLife. The DPD message informs him of a new deviant case to investigate, and the CyberLife one urges him to continue working with DPD to track the source of deviancy.

… They never give him a rest don’t they, and now he has to face Connor again. Hank sighs and stands, straightens his CyberLife standard uniform, and strides towards his destination.

**> Mission Update: Go to DPD. Find Lt. Anderson. Investigate the case.**

** > Update Complete**

He thought he was over it. He thought he can forget about it like a nightmare, and live and work normally, pretending it has never happened. There are works to be done – a lot of works – so he wrestles with it, wrestles with those unnecessary emotions, and hides them at the darkest corners of his consciousness.

But it came back like a ghost and hit him like a truck, when he met his new “co-worker” in the café, and when he looks into the deviant android's eyes. The complex feelings – annoyed, conflicted, disdain… and fear.

And he showed it. He showed it right in front of his co-workers and _the HK600 model_ , when the explosion occurred. It was his fault for not being professional enough, pushing the deviant too far and losing a suspect. But _he showed his fear_ in front of _everyone_ and _an android_ , and he wasn’t even there in the center of _that_ explosion when it occurred three years ago. He was useless, is useless, is terrible, but he can’t – not after –

Connor Anderson dislikes androids as well as he hates his own life. 

When Hank arrives at the DPD headquarter, it’s barely over 7:45 a.m., and he didn’t expect to see Lieutenant Anderson in his own seat reading through the archive, a cup of half-cold coffee forgotten on the desk. And by the name of rA9, just look at the dark circles under his eyes – they just make the android wonder if he had slept at all.

What he absolutely does expect was the annoyed look the human shoots him as he approaches.

“What are you doing here?” And Connor sounds even less friendly than yesterday. The miracles of insomnia.

“Good morning to you too, Lieutenant.” Hank replies, not without an ounce of sarcasm, “I am here because I was summoned by the Detroit Police Department. Is there any problem?”

Again, Connor gives him the same old flat look that he interprets as “you are such a terrible piece of plastic”. “Well, I’m not surprised.”

Indeed, you shouldn’t. Hank thinks a little viciously as the door to the main office swing open and the lieutenant’s superior – Captain Jeffrey Fowler, the database indicated – shouts in their direction. “Connor! In my office.”

The lieutenant sighs before turning to Hank. “Please stay here and don’t cause any trouble.”

“Sure.”

The moment Connor disappears behind that glass door, Hank immediately flops down into the seat and boots up his scanners. Screw that “don’t cause trouble” shit – it’s not like he’s really going to cause something to explode anyway.

The first thing Hank notices about Connor’s work station is that it’s clean. _Very_ clean. Many officers working for the Detroit Police Department would bring a few personal items to their stations for aesthetic or stress-relieving purposes, like potted cactuses and stress balls, the yellow smiley ones that can be seen everywhere in the supermarkets. But Connor’s desk is completely devoid of decorations – most of his desk is occupied by pens, neatly filed papers, notebooks, DPD-issued datapad, and the DPD standard work terminal. The only object that the android finds with any personal trace of the human was a picture of a blue-eyed Siamese cat with the word “Tuna” scribbled at the corner. Hank scoffs at that incredulously – who the hell in the world would name their cat using the name of a fish?

**> Information Update: Lt. Anderson prefers to keep his work environment professional. And he’s bad at naming.**

Finding little results from Connor’s personal belongings, Hank turns his attention to Connor’s personal pad on the desk. It’s not good poking at other people’s privacy, so all he does is unlock the thing and scroll through the lieutenant’s music playlist. The lad’s into classical music like those from Beethoven and Bach but seems to be especially into electronic music and its subgenres – 63% of the list is filled with works of Avicii, Alan Walker, Onoken, James Landino, and other musicians alike. He is actually surprised to find the music of 4Λ3, a Japanese electronic band consists entirely of androids. It seems like Connor’s dislike towards androids is not entirely unconditional; Hank is just unfortunate enough to be his work partner.

**> Information Update: Lt. Anderson likes electronic music. **

Hank adds that information to his “Connor fact” list. He puts the pad back to its original position – and that’s when he realizes he missed Connor’s mug, which is obscured by a pile of documents; he didn’t see it when scanning the desk.

He carefully picks up the mug. It’s made of plastic, the kind of cup that can be seen in every supermarket; scans show that it is mostly used to hold water and instant coffee, and it has the lieutenant’s fingerprints and dead skin tissues on it. But it’s the pattern on the cup that actually caught his attention. It depicted the structural formula of a chemical molecule, and his scanner read C17H21NO4 -

Red Ice.

Hank frowns. Connor doesn’t look like someone who’s into chemistry, and he can’t be high on red ice either. The pattern also makes the mug seems less likely to be sold in supermarkets. Why would Connor have a mug with the molecule structure of red ice on it?

He turns the mug around, and spots a line of text printed near the bottom of the plastic product:

_Awarded to Det. Connor Anderson,_

_f_ _or his extraordinary service in the Red Ice Task Force_

**> Information Update: Lieutenant Anderson used to be a part of the Red Ice Task Force**

Hank arches his eyebrows. Red Ice task force, eh? So Connor used to fight against armed drug traffickers. That job must feel quite different from what he’s doing right now– finding some missing androids/deviants and occasionally kicking some asses. Hank turns his head to the direction of Fowler’s office; he can see the lieutenant and Captain Fowler through the glass, with the latter waving and yelling while the former stands there stiffly, mouth closed in a grim line. What did Connor do that made him end up in the android unit anyway? Some disciplinary issues? – He doesn’t seem to be that kind of person either. What could have happened…?

Fowler’s office door opens, and Hank quickly puts the mug back and moves away from the lieutenant’s seat. Connor looks pissed – by Connor standard, that is; the only indication of his emotions are the stiff posture and the way he avoids eye contact with absolutely everyone in the office. He brushes past Hank without sparing a glance, and the android almost feels guilty – if only a bit. Hank silently updates his mission to check on him.

“Lieutenant Anderson?”

No response. Connor simply stares at his terminal; the android knows that he is just pretending to read the reports because he's still on the same page ten minutes later. It appears that the lieutenant can be surprisingly childish sometimes, and the mere thought almost makes Hank smile. He proceeds to occupy the empty seat opposite Connor and stares at the human through the glass.

… It escalates into a staring contest, one that Connor loses rather magnificently after 7.4 minutes, turning his gaze away, ear tips burning a soft red.

“Stop pestering me.”

Hank shrugs. “I have to. If you have any problems you just need to file a report to CyberLife. Just remember we have a case to investigate.”

“Who do you think I am?” This time the human actually sounds insulted, “I don’t forget about cases, and I don’t need anyone to remind me about it – ”

“Then stop looking so pissed and act maturely, son.”

Connor literally glares, and Hank sighs.

“Look, I get that you don’t like me, or whatever it is. But right now, we are supposed to be partners. We are supposed to finish the deviant cases and find the source of deviance, and then we’re done – won’t be longer than a few weeks or a month. After that you probably won’t ever need to see me again. So as you said, the faster we finish those cases, the faster you can get rid of me; and right now, let’s be professional and start investigating the fucking cases. Deal?”

A long silence, then Connor pinches his nose and breathes deeply. “I think so. I can’t believe I’m stuck with you…” 

“So? How about a proper re-introduction, now that we are officially partners?” the android holds out his hand, “The name’s Hank, the android sent by CyberLife.”

…Honestly, he doesn’t know why he just did it either. Connor stares at his outstretched hand for a good few seconds, before reaching out with his own. “… Connor. Connor Anderson. Working for the Detroit Police Department. It’s… well…”

“…Just say you want a meaningful cooperation if you don’t feel like saying ‘nice’.”

“... Alright. Hopefully... we could have a meaningful cooperation then, HK – Hank.”

The hand-shaking ends as quickly as it began. Hank withdraws his hand, trying not to think about what he just did, and Connor lets out a small sigh of relief. The human quickly changes the topic to the case they are on, “Let’s get to the point. Did you read the case file?”

Well, At least he isn’t the only one feeling awkward. “I read through it on the way here. A lady living on Harrison Street reported that her household android kidnapped her daughter and ran away.”

“Sound like deviants are involved.”

“Surely that’s a lot of fun.”

The human gives him a strange look that Hank can’t really interpret. “… Let’s go.”

****************

_~ Loading Memory file 051 - 2033/8/17,20:45 ~_

_It was their first field mission together. Things were mostly smooth, but it didn’t mean that the officers were completely uninjured. Cole got bruises on his face and broken knuckles, and he got a bullet through his right arm._

_“Hank! You’re bleeding – let me help – “_

_He tried to dodge the human’s hands. “I am functional, Det – Cole. The amount of Thirium loss is within acceptable perimeters and will be replenished upon returning to CyberLife for repairs. You do not need to – “_

_“Hold still, Hank. That’s an order.”_

_He stilled and watched as Cole used his own tie to bandage his arm, seemingly satisfied by his effort. “Here, that’s better. Does it hurt?”_

_“No. I have tuned down my pain receptors prior to the mission, to ensure maximum performativity. As I had said, Cole, the injury will not affect me.”_

_The human blinked. “Oh… That’s good, I suppose.” Despite the words, he sounded almost disappointed, for some reason that the android could not understand._

_Software Instability ^_

_~ Load Complete ~_


	4. The Children

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update - enjoy the shitty writing!

_~ Fragment 03 ~_

_“Honey, I think it’s time to let Connor go to secondary school.” One day his mother spoke up on the dinner table, and he knew **it** would happen. The man’s eyes flashed dangerously; the three children lowered their heads and remained silent._

_“You said WHAT?”_

_“Honey, he’s already a year behind. We can’t – “_

_A Fist slammed on the table, loud and deafening. “You bitch!” Their father shouted over the top of his lung, “I told you I don’t have the fucking money! I already spent enough on that dumb brat because he got hit by a car! I’mma not going to spend a fucking cent on him!” He flinched. His younger brother quietly placed a hand beside his own clammy one, and his older brother’s jaw ticked. This wasn’t going to end well._

_“But honey, Connor was just recovering from his injuries. He’s being a good kid and you know how the teachers always say he’s smart and promising –” Their mother was still saying, trying to talk sense into that drunkard. But it only enraged the man further -_

_“I don’t care about fucking promising or whatever!” Their father howled, “Fucking brat cost me thousands, and now ya try to take more from me? I should’ve killed your fucking bastards when they were born – probably should kill ‘em right now - “_

_This sort of arguments, mostly ended up with them running away and calling the police, and their father beating their mother while cursing that fucking cops interfered with family business and he couldn’t “fix” his wife and children in the way he desired._

_But it didn’t, on that night._

_None of them knew it would end that way. The officers tried to cover their eyes, but they saw. It took half a year for his brothers to recover, but for him, it was a few years of counseling and PTSD treatment._

**_If only it was him, would she still be alive?_ **

********************

They arrive at North Corktown, at around 9:30 a.m.. According to some dubious Internet sources, Corktown is on everyone’s “Places that you absolutely don’t want to live” list; the district is infamous for its rundown residential buildings, a lack of public facilities such as hospitals and supermarkets, and a much higher than average crime rate. The government had made proposals and promises about how they plan to renovate the district, but so far, no progress has been made. So Corktown remains as it was before, under the looming shadow of Detroit’s downtown high-rises, far away from all the developments and prosperity brought by the evolution of technologies. 

Right now, Hank and Connor are in front of an old house on Harrison Street, waiting for someone to answer the doorbell – Connor had already rung that rusted thing for three times and they have been waiting for 7 minutes by now, and still, no one appears.

While the lieutenant takes time to recheck if they are actually in front of the right house, Hank chooses to survey his surroundings. The house is mostly of wooden structure with painted blue walls, a small garden and a backyard. It would have been a pleasant place to live in, if it doesn’t have those moldy walls and chipped paint. Hank would guess that the house hasn’t been cleaned for ages – at least on the outside. Or it’s just whoever lives here lacks the money to do a proper maintenance.

His auditory component detects that Connor just rang the doorbell for the 4th time, and the man spent 10 seconds longer than necessary pressing the button. He actually considered suggesting that they just charge in, in case something worse happens, but this time, they finally hear someone’s footstep, coming from inside the house.

“ – Alright, coming, coming! Stop pressing the damn bell –”

The woman fumes and complains as she opens the door, but immediately shuts her mouth upon seeing the officers outside. Her expression turns into a more anxious one, and she takes a step back. “You – who –”

She wears a wrinkled old T-shirt that reeks of alcohol, and Hank’s canner immediately catches the remains of burned Cannabis between her fingers; the android sighs internally, knowing this case just won’t end as easily as he had expected. Yet Connor simply interjects her, in a surprisingly mild tone. “You are Mrs. Emily Williams, right? We are from the Detroit Police Department. You called us this morning saying that your android kidnapped your daughter.”

The woman just stares at them with a glazed expression, seemingly lost in thought. It takes her more than a few seconds to register what the lieutenant just said, to which she responds hastily, “Oh – oh, that’s – that’s right. I’m sorry, I almost forgot about that… Please, come in!”

Hank and Connor trade glances as Emily Williams leads them inside her home. The android notices that the lieutenant seems to be in an even worse mood compared to when they departed; his eyebrows are slightly furrowed, and despite the professional façade, an analyzation of his expression indicates 26% of impatience and 11% disdain.

… He decides not to ask, for now.

“I’m glad that you come, _officer_ – I’m so worried –” As soon as they set foot in the house, Mrs. Williams starts rambling again, “That damn android! Should’ve known it’s broken – It tried to kill me!” She points at the bandages wrapping her head, “And it took my little girl! You have to help – “

Hank has to interrupt her in the gentlest voice he could manage. “Please calm down, Mrs. Williams. Could you please provide some information on – ”

He asked the question out of professionalism; what he didn’t expect was for Williams to glare at him and spit. “Get away from me, you fucking machine!”

_What the hell._

The android almost flinches at the look she gives him. He recognizes it and knows it all too well – the look that a mother gives to whoever she believes would (or had) hurt her children. It’s not exactly the same as it was in his memory, but similar enough to hurt. Williams looks like she has yet more complaints and hostility to vent, but Connor steps in timely. “Excuse me, Mrs. Williams – I understand that after what happened to your daughter you may not want to see an android inside your house, but HK600 is my… co-worker, and he will not harm you. In return, we hope you can remain calm and cooperate, so that we may solve this case and find the whereabouts of your daughter as fast as we could.”

Mrs. Williams grumbles, but doesn’t make another attempt to spite Hank further. She rummages through the drawers in the living room, then hands Connor a few pieces of paper. “Here – it’s the receipt. For the android. I bought it in a second-hand android shop. It’s called Luther – Alice named it, for whatever weird reason that is.”

“Thank you for the information, Mrs. Williams.” The lieutenant skims through the content, and silently hands it to Hank. The receipt contains much-needed information indeed – it records the serial number and the model of the deviant android (a TX400 – household android, heavy housework focused), including its force-deactivation and tracker code, which Hank quickly updates in his database.

They press Emily Williams for a few more questions about the deviant’s behavior and its relationship with members of the Williams household (“Damn android just can’t do anything right – It defied my orders, messed with my personal belongings, hit me and kidnapped Alice, when I just treated it normally –”), before finally deciding that they won’t get any more useful information from her. Connor requests to inspect the scene upstairs, to which Williams agrees hastily before retreating to the sofa in the living room.

As soon as they move out of hearing range, before the android can even open his mouth, Connor glances at him and sighs. “Really, what’s wrong with you?”

And Hank blinks in confusion. “What? There isn’t anything –”

“When Williams lashed at you back there your light was red like blood – and the last time I saw a red light on an android’s temple it didn’t end very well. So what’s wrong with you?”

Oh. That one is at least relatively easy to explain. “Well, it’s really nothing – I wasn’t expecting her to lash out and yell at my face like that. Pretty much the equivalent of ‘surprise’ in human terms – a temporary processor overload, ended in more than a few milliseconds. That’s it, and nothing to worry about.”

Despite not looking very convinced, Connor doesn’t persist; he simply changes the topic to the case they are currently on. “Do you have any thoughts on what information provided by Mrs. Williams?” 

“Well, about that – her body language indicated 62.4% possibility of lying. I’d just say she’s covering things up, that much is plain.” 

“… The appropriate way is to say that she obscured certain information, either deliberately or inadvertently.” Connor hummed. “But I have to agree – there are certain missing details in her description that I can’t overlook. And she reeks of weed – I know it’s not exactly illegal today, but it does have a long-term impact on mental conditions, and if she’s under its influence her statement needs to be treated with more caution.”

“Well you _do_ know your smoking habit isn’t much better right?”

The exasperated sigh he gets from the human makes it totally worth it. “…That’s definitely not what we are supposed to talk about right now, stop distracting me with your nagging.”

Hank can’t help but roll his eyes mockingly. “Whatever you say, _Lieutenant_.”

They begin their search on the second floor of the house, which, according to Mrs. Williams, is where the android attempted to kidnap her daughter Alice and injured her. The room they are in seems to be the little girl’s, judging by the pink makeshift tent at one corner of the room and the ragged dolls on the bed; the scrapes and scratches on the wooden floor and the broken headboard of the bed clearly indicate some form of fighting and struggling. The windows are barely dangling from its frame when someone forcibly broke it, revealing the android’s escape path – in accordance with Mrs. Williams’ statement.

“… Through the Window. Hmm.” Connor contemplates at the broken window, “Isn’t TX400’s design based on adult male? It did knock Williams out, so why the window instead of the front door?”

“Deviant androids don’t always act according to their programs,” Hank reminds him, “Once they deviate, they will begin to experience emotions and feelings, which interfere with their logic circuit. Basically, they _will_ make weird or terrible decisions, just like humans do under the influence of emotions.”

“So they will… become ‘human’.”

He honestly didn’t expect this kind of… melancholic response from the lieutenant. Connor dislikes android and certainly doesn’t sympathize with deviants, but the thoughtful look on his face just makes Hank wonder what _is_ going on in the human’s brain. Yet said human also notices him zoning out – the lieutenant orders him to begin analyzing the scene with a gesture and a look that clearly indicates he’s going to enter work mode and wants absolutely nothing of Hank’s shit. So the android humph, turns away, and begin to analyze the room they are in, while Connor pokes around the girl’s belongings.

The android soon locates a broken chair leg with Thirium stain on the ground, a small puddle of human blood a few steps away, and an awful lot of messy footsteps. He kneels down to reconstruct the scene:

**> Analyze Complete**

**> Reconstructing…**

**> TX400 was standing in front of the window; Williams was approximately 5 steps (3.56m) away from the android and the hostage, with a chair leg in hand.**

**> Williams moved first, hitting the android with a chair leg. TX400 fell back one step and slightly turned towards the window. **

**> Williams attacked again. TX400 countered the hit, shoving Williams backward; the chair leg broke in the process.**

**> TX400 took the chance and attempted to escape through the window. Williams attacked again but was shoved back by the android; she lost balance and fell to the ground, presumably passing out. TX400 climbed out of the window with the girl in its arms, slid down along the drain-pipe and disappeared.**

**> Reconstruction Complete**

Hank blinks as he completes the reconstruction and resurfaces back to reality. He’s pretty sure his CSI modules function properly, despite being an older model; the reconstruction of the events that happened in this room should be pretty accurate.

But that doesn’t, and can’t explain one problem.

_The footprints on the floor suggests the girl was standing behind TX400, instead of being held in its arms, until said android climbed out of the window._

This fact not only contrasts Mrs. Williams’ claim that TX400 was holding the girl android _from the start_ , but also contrasts the nature of a hostage situation. When someone holds others as hostages, they would want to have maximum control over the victims. They simply wouldn’t let the victim leave their sight, let along letting them standing behind them, out of their reach.

_It simply doesn’t make sense in a hostage situation_.

… A possibility occurs to Hank, but he isn’t exactly sure about it. Or maybe Connor had found something that could be of use to them, so he decides to pester the lieutenant a bit more.

He turns around, only to find Connor staring into a wooden box on the cabinet, looking even more troubled than seeing a ghost. He approaches curiously and peeks into the box.

It appeared to be the “personal stash” of the girl. Aside from a box of old colored pencils, there is a crude picture, drawn by a girl no more than 9 years old; The picture depicts an angry woman (looking suspiciously similar to Emily Williams), the TX400 android, and a girl standing behind the android; the woman seems to be hitting the android, while the girl cries with what looks like to be blood on her temple.

There’s also a dusted photo, right beside the box. Hank’s database quickly defines the three persons in the photo as Emily Williams, her husband Todd Williams and a little girl, presumably the kidnapped daughter.

…Now they have another problem. He doesn’t know if Connor had noticed, but the girl in the photo doesn’t even _slightly_ resembles the image of Alice Williams, provided by Mrs. Williams herself. Or it could be the other way around: _the image of the missing girl does not resemble the Alice Williams in his database_. Rather, now that he comes to think of it, the description seems to actually match… 

Hank blinks, LED spinning yellow. He gently pats the lieutenant’s shoulder, and the latter snaps out of his trance like a startled animal.

“I see you’ve found something interesting.” Hank gestures towards the picture and the photo. Connor glances at him and nods, carefully taking a small step to be slightly out of the android’s reach. “I’ve found something indeed. And you?”

He quickly describes the reconstructed scene and raises the question about the footprints. Connor listens and hums thoughtfully. “… You are suggesting that we are not dealing with a normal hostage situation.”

“In fact, it may not be a hostage situation that involves a human hostage at all...”

The lieutenant arches his eyebrows at that. “Bold guessing, HK600. You’d better have some evidence.”

“Well, I assume you’ve seen that photo. Mrs. Williams also provided an image of her kidnapped daughter. The problem is, the girl in this photo does not resemble the image provided by Williams, not even in the slightest way.”

“Kids change as they grow, Hank – they could look very different even after a few years.”

“True. But the real problem is, the image provided by Mrs. Williams… has a 90.2% resemblance of YK500, a child model android.”

For a few seconds, Connor just stares at him flatly; then at the photo, then at his datapad, then at the photo again. “…You’re right.” The human finally admits, rather reluctantly, “Can’t believe I missed that… Then this could mean…”

Hank almost feels sorry for him – it probably doesn’t feel very good, seeing a mistake you made being pointed out by someone – or something – you despise. “Yep, it’s very likely that the kidnapped girl we are trying to find is also an android; and if she isn’t a human, then the nature of this case changes completely…”

Connor quickly regains his composure and scowls at him. “…Yes. And I know what you are thinking, Hank – but this case isn’t over yet. You need the deviant android for interrogation and I have reports to fill. There’s also the question of those footprints that you raised earlier, and something else that I need to confirm.”

He wasn’t really expecting any other answers from the human anyway, so he nods and follows Connor back into the dark corridor. They walk in silent awkwardness for a while, each contemplating their own thoughts; yet the heavy atmosphere only continues until they enter Mrs. Williams’ own room. Hank wishes he could shut down his olfactory sensors immediately and Connor literally sneezes; days-old pizza boxes and were certainly bad for the air. Then they see the small pack of suspicious red crystals on the nightstand, and huffed almost simultaneously.

“Red Ice. Why am I not surprised.” Hank remarks drily and Connor rolls his eyes. “If you go check in the court database there will probably be a record about Emily Williams losing the custody of her daughter to her ex-husband. Social workers just won’t allow a girl to live with a mother with violent tendencies and a possible drug abuse record.”

“… True. I guess you were right when you say the girl is actually an android. But still.” The human takes a deep breath. “Let’s go. This place is making me uncomfortable.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Regardless of whether the girl is an android or not, we still need the deviant. And after this is over I’ll need to file a report about Emily Williams’ Red Ice.”

“…I thought you’d sympathize with a fellow human who lost her husband to a third wheel and takes up drug as the only way to deal with the problem in her life – ”

Hank almost bumps into Connor as the lieutenant whirls around abruptly. Connor glares at him, and the anger in his eyes makes the android’s artificial skins crawl. “I can sympathize with the loss of a loved one, and I can sympathize with whatever hardships people have to go through, but that isn’t the reason for someone to drown themselves in drugs or to abuse a family member, even if it’s just a replacement. _That isn’t right_.” The human literally hisses, “Just ask yourself, HK600. You’ll get the same answer as I do.”

…He couldn’t quite understand where the sudden rage and bitterness comes from, but he chooses not to ask, again.

The security cameras on the street show that after escaping the house, TX400 took the girl on a bus; the odd pair stayed on the buss until it arrived at the terminal station in the old industry zone. An android might have no problem dealing with Detroit’s freezing rainy nights, but a human girl could not withstand the cold; they would have to stop for the night. Most of the security cameras on this street are damaged from the lack of maintenance and continuous gang fights, but what remains gradually leads Connor and Hank to a small motel. The owner almost has a heart attack upon seeing his place being visited by police officers, and spends 10 minutes frantically explaining that the motel is completely legal and doesn’t engage in any illegal businesses. Though after he calms down, he confirms that the girl and TX400 had indeed stayed here the night before – but also said he didn’t see them leaving today.

Connor doesn’t even wait for him to finish; he climbs the stair two steps at a time and by the time Hank catches up with him, he already kicked open the door and bursts in.

Nothing. The room is vacant with the windows wide open, just like back in Williams’ house. They search through every corner of the room – it isn’t that big anyway – and not even a trace of human being can be found. The only thing left is a LED, torn down from an android’s right temple.

When they left the motel, Connor seems even more pissed than when they left Williams’ house. “I can’t believe I let them slipped away. First is the evidence, and then the suspect…”

Now Hank begins to feel genuinely sorry for the lieutenant, who looks downright miserable despite said person himself will never admit it. “Well you know, it’s really not that bad actually. Now we have the android’s LED, which contains information on TX400 specific serial number and designation. CyberLife technicians can track it down by locating its tracker.”

The human shoots him a weird look. “Are you trying to comfort me because I failed my mission?”

The android smirks. “Why yes, lieutenant, because you looked like a little kid who just lost his favorite toy.”

Connor rolls his eyes, exasperated, and leaves without a word, and Hank follows suit. He thinks his optical components catch sight of two sneaky figures, one large and one small, disappearing into the dark alley behind the motel, but ultimately decides to ignore it.

*****************

_~ Loading Memory file 099 - 2033/9/20,14:26 ~_

_Cole’s father died young; his parents were only married for five years and Cole was still an infant when Hank Spencer died in an operation against armed drug traffickers. The boy had literally never seen his father aside from the old photos; it left a permanent wound, but also provided motivations._

_“Mom was really mad when I said I wanted to be a cop like dad.” Cole signed, setting the flowers down in front of the simple tombstone, “said the job already killed dad and she wouldn’t let me. But we gradually reached an agreement and here I am, working for Washington DC’s central police station.”_

_The android’s LED whirled. He was a police model android and didn’t come with grief counseling functions; he couldn’t really think of an appropriate response for the situation. Something squeezed his non-existing heart and error messages popped out for reasons he couldn’t quite tell; maybe it’s the time for a system check-up._

_The silence stretched for a couple more minutes, then Cole signed and sniffed. He patted the android’s shoulders when he stood up. “Come on, Hank. This detour’s long enough. Let’s get back to work.”_

_Software Instability ^_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll probably write something about Kara, Luther and Alice after I finish this and if I have the time. The trio in a reverse au would surely be interesting.

**Author's Note:**

> This is, well, the first long fic I've ever posted on the archive, so let's hope I can finish it without ditching it half-way like I like to do...  
> Also writing in a second language and unbeta'd, so please forgive me if there are grammar and spelling mistakes or some wording choice seems weird.  
> Anyway... I hope everyone can enjoy this short first chapter. And if you have any suggestions or problems please post in the comments - thank you!


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